


A Night in Paris

by HeatherTN



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5219918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeatherTN/pseuds/HeatherTN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>We stand in solidarity with France xxxx</p>
    </blockquote>





	A Night in Paris

**Author's Note:**

> We stand in solidarity with France xxxx

The doors flew open as the team jumped out on to the street. The building ahead appeared to be in darkness, yet screaming mixed with gunfire resonated out on to the street. Making sure helmet shields were pulled down in place, body shields and limb protection secured, she followed behind the unit commander and silently took up position behind a bollard.

Suddenly there was a loud bang which made them all jump, the noise was distant as it waved down the street from a part of the city not far from them. But the team remained still awaiting the signal. She was breathing heavily as she gripped her weapon, resisting the urge to place her finger over the trigger 

It seemed an eternity at first, trying to compose herself into a focused state before the first charge. Her heart was pounding in her ears as adrenaline ran through her, but still she did not move as she had been trained not to do until the signal had been given.  


The building in front was huge and held a capacity of fifteen hundred to two thousand people who were attending a rock concert who now were facing a terror not imagined and ill prepared for as gunfire still rattled from within.

The unit commander silently gave the signnal and the team rushed in, past a few who had managed to escape from the large auditorium, which presented another hazard, the potential for a stampede as those left inside would very likely panic and try to escape en masse. Raising her weapon up in her arms, training her eyes through the night sight and noting the other infra red target dots waving on a closed entrance before them, she charged in to chaos.

********************

What seemed another eternity later, amid the loud wails of sirens and the terrified cries of the victims, Camille and her group were allowed a brief respite before re-grouping. Raising her face shield and loosening the chin strap, she found herself sinking down to sit on a pavement edge, her energy briefly sapped. 

Her mind escaped back to the sunny, green and lush island where she had grown up. The rhythmic beats of music from the street bars and the happy chatter of the crowd in her mother’s bar did much to comfort her. 

But also there had been grief and she had been eventually driven away by the brutal murder of a brilliant man she had found herself falling in love with, and his replacement who was obviously falling in love with her. She needed to work again in a big city, this city where years before she had learned a new way of living, a style and culture that had helped her to mature.

This city, her other love, was bleeding in the worst way possible, inflicted with a deep wound she doubted would ever heal without leaving a huge scar. The cut had started months before with an attack on the offices of a magazine, and had grown deeper in the past few hours as it was becoming clear many innocent had been attacked, wounded and killed. How many no one could say for now, but possibly could be in the in the hundreds. She flinched as her radio crackled with the despair of the calls from units across the city and in the background, more screams from a terrified public.

Camille sat up, taking a breath and turned to stand up, but from the corner of her eye she saw a small flower head. She removed her gloves and reached out to pick it up, resting it in the palms of her hand. Even in the dim night, illuminated by flashing lights, she noted the blue delicate petals and the stem. It was an Iris, France’s national flower.

The colour reminded her of the blue skies of home and of Paris in the spring. Even with the onset of winter, it still shone. But it's petals were beginning to wilt as it had broken away from the stem, which Camille was sure had been a part of a floral arrangement. It became a shocking reminder of how Paris was broken now. She was sure the city would recover but could never be the same.

Sitting back down on the pavement edge, Camille clasped her hands around the petals on where she rested her weary head.

And wept.


End file.
